


Resident Evil: Endgame

by ultimolu



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimolu/pseuds/ultimolu
Summary: Alternate Universe: (Post RE6) The outbreaks were only the tip of the iceberg. As the hunt against 'The Family' becomes a top priority, everyone becomes a pawn in a new game, all of which may very well be the beginning of the end. Everything is on the line, as a new fight begins to end Umbrella's dark legacy.





	1. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris views a grave dedicated to Piers and remembers the last time he saw him before he met a watery end. He wants to believe that Piers is dead but somewhere in his mind, doubt lurks within.

**Date** : March 30th, 2013

"…Why did you do it?"

It was the question he already knew the answer to, but he couldn't help but ask once more.

He didn't move; his eyes fixated on the silver plaque. The steady downpour did nothing to put his mind at ease. It was only there to saturate the old cemetery. Redwood Cemetery was now the home to B.S.A.A agents that were killed in the line of duty. Most of their bodies were never recovered, due to the effects of viruses that ran through their bloodstream. Other agents were killed by the very monsters he had sworn to eradicate. Recent outbreaks had created another cesspool of bodies. He was forced to kill them, just to protect the ones that were still human.

There was never a time, where he felt comfortable visiting the cemetery. He couldn't remember the last time he was ever in one, not since Jill was declared a casualty in a mission that had gone horribly wrong. It took everything in him to remain strong. The enemy was still out there, and was ready to strike at any given moment. Just when he thought it was over or he was able to breathe, the nightmare persisted again. He knew what he was getting into when he became the co-founder of the B.S.A.A but he couldn't accept what was happening now.

He couldn't accept any of it.

Flowers marked the grave of Piers Nivan, consisting of ivory and lavender petals. Well kept grass surrounded the stems and coruscated in the rain. Bells resonated throughout the cemetery; a somber undertone used during Good Friday. He wasn't a religious man, but knew about the events that marked the church year.

Chris drew a deep breath.

It was goddamned deja'vu again.

Seven years ago, he wore the same uniform during the funeral of a woman he thought he had lost forever. This time, he was staring at the grave of a young man that once had a bright future ahead of him. Piers would have taken his place, once he retired from the B.S.A.A. He would have given up his life to see him alive. Piers was the reason why he was still alive and why he continued to fight.

It should have been him.

He should have been the one to die…it should have been him that was infected and stayed behind.

Even now, his thoughts were selfish. Piers had sacrificed his life, just as Jill had done seven years ago. But it didn't change the emotions that continued to ravage his mind.

How many men have died? How many more would have to perish before it was finally over?

His grip tightened around the handle of the umbrella over his head.

Ironically, it matched his outfit. He wore a standard blue-gray suit, a white shirt, and a beret with sliver trim. It was similar to the traditional military garb but was lighter in color. For once, he was clean shaven, free of the stubble that marred the lower half of his face. He only wore the suit during special events or during important meetings. For the first time, he was to meet with the new president and chief security adviser. He didn't know if he was prepared. A part of him wanted to return to New York and pretend this was a nightmare he could wake up from.

But even then, he knew that wasn't possible.

The war against bioterrorism had only begun. He was a fool to believe that Kijuju was the end of it.

He didn't know how he had managed to sleep during the past few days. Circles developed underneath his eyes, but he did his best to conceal it. His nights were plagued with nightmares, which left him enveloped in sweat, or spending the rest of the night downstairs in the entertainment room, watching the news. Each channel consisted of the coverage regarding the outbreak and everything else that was going on. Then, he resorted to drinking…sometimes five shots of vodka at a time. He didn't want anyone to worry about him; he didn't want anyone to take pity on his situation.

He did what he could to stay in the fight, but temptation stood in his way. The last thing he needed was a therapist, picking away at his agitation.

Thunder rattled the foundations of the cemetery, adding to his silence. Piers wasn't going to answer him, not when he was already gone…just like the ones he had lost over the years. He shouldn't have expected an answer from beyond the grave.

"…It didn't have to be this way..." He muttered to himself.

Minutes passed, before a brief salute was made towards the plaque.

It was time that he took his leave.


	2. Six Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been six months since the outbreaks that marred Liangshang and Tall Oaks. Jake, over the course of time developed feelings for Sherry and finds himself in the United States, living with her. She sends him shopping for some essentials for a special dinner.

**___________**

**Location** : Birkin Residence, Washington

 ____________

 **[** Hey supergirl, you're supposed to be helping me with this list, you know. How the hell am I supposed to find these things on my own? **]**

Sherry jerked at the sudden rattle from her phone. She didn't expect to doze off, especially at the kitchen table. The myth of falling asleep during abominable weather had proven to be true after all. She rushed for the phone and checked the screen. True enough, Jake Muller had shown up on the display; a dirty look plastered on his handsome face. She didn't know whether to laugh or shake her head in pity. It had been two hours since he left the condo for groceries. She had given him a list with everything they needed to last a couple of weeks.

It didn't take her long to realize that he was less than pleased with the task; considering that he had transformed from a mercenary to a typical civilian in a local supermarket. His leather bomber jacket, dark shirt, and jeans stood out well enough among the customers in the background.

 **[** Don't think I didn't see that smirk on your face. What, did I interrupt your beauty sleep or something? Well good, because this is fucking purgatory. And these crazy old ladies are giving me weird looks. **]**

Sherry rolled her eyes at his complaints. [You could have been more subtle. Were you trying to give me a heart attack shouting like that?]

A mocked gasp escaped Jake's lips from the video camera as he put a hand to his chest. **[I** would never, and I mean never do that to a pretty face. Even though she sent me here on my own and fell asleep at the phone while I needed backup… **]**

The red bolted to her cheeks before Sherry could respond. Muller's trademark smirk replaced his annoyance in an instant. **[** Well, it's always good to know that you're blushing again. You can't resist my charm after all.]

[Just stop.] She muttered, and returned the subtle grin. [How far are you with that grocery list anyway? I do need the groceries now, not tomorrow you know.]

This time, it was Jake's turn to roll his eyes. **[** Ha, ha, very funny. I'm rolling on the floor, even as we speak.] A groan soon followed. [I still can't believe I agreed to this shit. I feel like a fucking nanny. **]**

[Oh come on, you did fine. You're only doing this because I still have some work to finish on this laptop and I didn't have time to get out this week…]

 **[** …and then you fell asleep. **]**

[Keep that attitude up and you won't get that reward I promised for tonight.]

Jake grumbled under his breath. **[** Touché supergirl…touché. **]**

[Maybe if you get here before three, maybe I'll consider giving that reward to you now—]

[Okay, now you're just being a goddamn tease.]

Sherry grinned once more in triumph. [Just come back in one piece. I wouldn't want your old lady friends mauling you out there.]

The scowl returned. [They're freaking staring at me and waving. Again…not funny.]

[You'll live, trust me.]

 **[** Yeah, yeah...you just want to get me off the phone. I'll be there soon. **]**

He was gone before she could tease him again. Sherry leaned back in her chair and stretched her limbs, starting with her back. She stared at the clock on her phone, and realized it was two-thirty. The past month had felt almost normal, at least from her perspective, Tall Oaks and China were still disaster zones, and her life had become a whirlwind of changes and reports. She already knew about the meeting between Chris, William Owens and John Lambert. Owens was her new superior and chief security adviser, while Lambert was the new president of the United States. They were selected, based on emergency procedures that hadn't been used since Kennedy's assassination.

She had met both of them, and was commended for her efforts as a D.S.O agent. They both agreed that she needed some time off, but her duties still came first. Next week, she would learn about her new assignment. Jake had returned to the United States with her, and had decided to settle down, at least for now.

From there, they had developed a sentimental relationship.

He had also made the decision to talk to Chris, but never indicated when. Their brief standoff in China was still fresh in her memory.

 _"You told me violence wasn't the answer, so I'll follow your advice…"_ Jake said to her one night. _"…but it won't change anything. I want answers, but I'm still the bastard child of a fucking nutjob. That's all he sees in me."_

She opened her mouth to protest, but he dropped the subject. She didn't believe Chris thought of him that way, but Sherry didn't pursue it. It wouldn't have gotten her anywhere and it would have exploded into an argument she wouldn't have been prepared to face. Tension still existed between Jake and Chris, and would remain in place until one of them made their first move. Her only wish was that it was sooner rather than later.

Sherry reached for the red coffee mug near her laptop. A young puppy was sitting down, wagging his tail. She had the cup for as long as she remembered, and it reminded her of the happier times during her childhood. It also reminded her that she was out of coffee. She considered calling Jake again, but decided against it.

If I call him, he'll only flip. It's bad enough that he's being mauled by old ladies…

Sherry was tempted to laugh once more, but she had enough entertainment for one day. Instead, she took the time to examine the space she was in.

The kitchen walls consisted of fresh paint—light blue and white. Even the appliances were white, from the refrigerator to the various cabinets. The black ceramic counter top and table was the only thing that wasn't completely white, as well as the tiles.

She had moved into the condo, once she joined the D.S.O. Leon assisted her whenever he could and when he had the chance to breathe. It was expensive, but livable and comfortable. It was a hell of a lot better than her old apartment, where the stench of mildew followed her to the bathroom. She hoped that some peace and quiet dominated Washington, at least for now. Even now, she knew that couldn't be achieved.

The outbreaks subsided, but discord remained. Civilians in various cities were in panic mode and religious zealots took this as an opportunity to declare that the end of the world was at hand. She could never watch the news, without hearing about another protest or weekly prophesies. Many declared that the government was being controlled by someone other than the president and was the source of everything that was being kept from them. The government was losing trust in its citizens and soon the protests would turn into riots.

None of it was a surprise to her.

Sherry's gaze soon fell on the laptop. Multi-tasking had become a habitual tradition and allowed her to think. The current situation left her with more paperwork than before. Owens wanted to know everything, all of which included details of her former superior—Derek Simmons. It was evident that Simmons wasn't the main culprit behind Neo-Umbrella or the C-Virus. Investigations were being carried out and government conspiracies became the social norm. Soon, she would be thrown in the same chaos in Washington. She was utilizing each day to prepare herself—both mentally and physically.

She clicked on the website she was browsing. Various clothes and accessories greeted her. How long had it been since she bought a pair of shoes or a new outfit? She recalled the times where Leon told her that a government agent had little time for leisure. She was only given six months to recover because of the situation she was placed in. She was also being commended for her efforts in creating a vaccine and protecting Jake Muller (not that he needed protection to begin with). She knew the assignment was dangerous, but she didn't anticipate the kidnapping part or being locked in a battle with creatures more terrifying than anything she had ever faced.

Even now, she didn't know how long the 'peace' would last before Neo-Umbrella reared its head again.

Another vibration from her phone jolted Sherry from her thoughts. She checked again to see if it was Jake, but this time it was Claire.

Sherry picked up on the last ring.

_"I wanted to call as soon as I could but security is ridiculous around here. You weren't kidding when you said Washington was like Fort Knox."_

A wry smile appeared on Sherry's face. Claire was supposed to leave for Washington, but the travel had been difficult. The government was treating the Neo-Umbrella situation as a code red and certain flights were grounded, particularly the ones bound for Washington and various countries across the globe. Security was tight, especially in Washington. Soldiers and D.S.O agents scoured the area and other neighboring cities. New York was met with the same fate, with the N.Y.P.D and the National Coast Guard on full alert. She couldn't imagine the trouble Claire had during the past month, but she knew things would only get worse from now.

"I don't think it's going to improve any time soon," Sherry said. "I didn't expect it would take this long for you to reach Washington. You're still at the airport, right?"

_"Pretty much. Leon is supposed to pick me up in a couple of minutes but his hands are full. He was able to pull some strings though. TerraSave hasn't been the same since this Neo-Umbrella/ _Family_ situation either."_

"I know. I didn't have a chance to contact him today. Looks like I'll be thrown into the shark tank next week. I just hope that I don't end up on the wrong side of the tank."

_"Don't talk like that Sherry. You're the reason why there's a vaccine for the C-Virus. You did well."_

Sherry paused. "…I guess I did—"

 _"No, you did well."_ Claire repeated. _"If it wasn't for you, things could have been much worse." She paused as well. "…Is Jake with you?"_

"I sent him to the supermarket to pick up some things but he should be back. Why? Is something wrong?"

_" …I know about the situation with Chris. Chris didn't talk that much about it…the last time we were on the phone, but I know he wants to get everything off his chest. He knows Jake isn't like…Wesker, but it's been difficult for him. He still blames himself for the death of his men, especially Piers. When he's ready, he'll speak with Jake. I don't know how long it'll take…but I know he'll break through soon. Now, this isn't the time."_

Sherry was silent. Claire was right, but she didn't respond. She had seen Chris. As much as she believed that he would remain strong, for the sake of bringing the ones responsible for this mess to justice, he was a shell of his former self. She had never seen a man that was burdened and filled with guilt. During Pier's funeral, he couldn't finish the speech he had prepared. But Sherry would never forget the words he did leave behind.

_"Piers Nivan…was a good man. He would have been the future of the B.S.A.A. But he…sacrificed his life instead. To quote Nathan Hale, '…I regret that I have but one life to give for my country.' Piers…gave up that life. His willingness to put everything on the line…was the greatest sacrifice any man could give for his country and those he cared for. To ignore that would be the greatest sin. If Piers had more than one life, he would have given all of them up."_

_"Sherry? Are you there?"_

Sherry's mind returned to the present. "I'm still here. Once you settle down…I mean when Leon picks you up, you can come over, if you want…and have dinner with us. Chris can come too. Things have been tense around here. Someone has to break the ice."

_"I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to intrude, and Chris might not—"_

"It's no trouble at all. Please Claire…at least consider my offer."

Claire hesitated at first, but soon answered her. _"Okay…I'll accept your offer. But I don't know about Chris."_

"Just ask him. It wouldn't hurt. I don't think they'll hold him too long. It…may be good for him. It just gives us a chance to just settle down…at least for now."

_"…I'll see what I can do but I can't guarantee anything. I better go for now. We'll talk later."_

"Okay. Stay safe."

"I will."

Sherry hung up, once she heard Claire hang up. A sigh escaped her lips.

She only hoped the small dinner went as smoothly as she had just planned out.


	3. A New President

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris meets with the new president of the United States, all of which is determined to expose the truth behind Umbrella and Raccoon City. Sherry prepares for the dinner she sets with Claire, however Jake doesn't think it's a good idea, due to the tension that exists between him and the man who took out his father.

 

 

_____________

**Location:** White House, Washington D.C

**Time:** 3:00 p.m

_____________

"…I wish we could have met under different circumstances."

Chris shook the hand of President John Lambert, his grip firm. His time with Pier's grave had lasted more than fifteen minutes. Jill had been waiting for him once he left the cemetery. She opted to stay outside, rather than follow him through the narrow walkway. He didn't ask her why she didn't come with him—he already knew. The tombstones and plaques reminded her of her 'grave' seven years ago. From since the mission in Kijuju and her rehabilitation, she was fully reinstated as a B.S.A.A agent and had returned as his partner.

Even now, she was with him, and provided as much support as he had given her.

He didn't open his mouth to speak, because he didn't know how to respond.

He refused to cry, despite his sentiments and mental state. It was difficult to construe what he felt at the moment. Fear, doubt, uncertainty, rage, depression, guilt…they were all the same to him. Everything he had fought so hard to achieve lay in ruins. The B.S.A.A offered to provide a counselor for him, but the only thing they received from him was a weak laugh.

They were afraid he'd go crazy and kill everyone that got in his way. They were afraid there was something inside of him that would snap at any given moment. They assumed he would be in a mental institution before Neo-Umbrella was stopped. His quest for vengeance burned within him and wouldn't be quenched until he made the monsters responsible for the death of his men pay.

They were out of their fucking minds if they thought he would just give up here and now.

He was going to end this, once and for all.

No words were exchanged between him and Jill once they stepped inside the dark SUV. It was sent by two agents that were sent to pick him up and bring him to the White House. He was to meet Lambert first, and then Owens—the new security adviser and Sherry's employer. A meeting would take place in the conference room at the Pentagon. It was to cover what they knew about the organization responsible for this mess, as well as the current situation. He learned that the situation in China had only gotten worse. The government there had refused to bomb the areas that were infected and was determined to utilize enough forces to quarantine each area. The uninfected believed their government was dragging their asses during a humanity crisis and feared for the worst.

Even now, the quarantine zone wasn't holding. It wouldn't be long before the infected moved into major cities and China became a cesspool for the undead. There was still tension between China and the United States, even though lives were at stake. Tall Oaks was also quarantined, but he didn't know much about the situation over there—not now, at least. He also learned that the C-Virus was making its presence known in various cases throughout the world. He could only imagine the chaos at each B.S.A.A branch.

He was dealing with his own crisis here at home.

The meeting also included Leon, and would soon involve Sherry. He had only gotten a few chances to speak with her in person, but knew she was employed with the D.S.O with good reason. She was intelligent and knew her way around weapons and tactical offense. In a way, he admired how strong she had been throughout the ordeal. For now, she was on temporary leave, and would be back to full duty next week.

_One big, happy family…_

His thoughts were interrupted, once Lambert continued. "I wouldn't have imagined taking the president's seat…at least in this manner. One minute, I was Adam Benford's vice president, the next minute I'm sworn in to take his place. But of course, one needs to be prepared for these types of emergencies. Your reputation precedes you Mr. Redfield—I've heard much about you."

"Thank you sir," Chris said. "I do what I can to serve and protect my country, as well as the innocent."

Lambert nodded and withdrew his hand. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Chris withdrew his hand as well and removed his beret. He sat down and placed it on his lap, once Lambert sat down in his leather chair. It wasn't the first time he was in the White House, or the president's office. He had met Adam Benford, once he became involved with the B.S.A.A. The man seemed genuine and determined to carry out his duties. He didn't know much about politics, but he knew there were several dirtbags in office. Of course they were still there, but he wasn't one to judge or determine whether they should remain there or not.

The office was the way he remembered it, with a few notable changes. Three windows with achromatic trim overlooked the polished grass and the silhouettes of agents stationed outside. The crimson drapes hung over the windows and served as an extra part of the prodigious décor. Most of the furniture was a rich mahogany color, and stood out against the light chestnut walls. The carpet was also of a luminous chestnut hue. Various paintings hung against the wall, from George Washington, to the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Two black statues were on either side of the room on two wooden cabinet desks. In the middle, the president's desk stood out; filled with paperwork and a speakerphone that matched the statues across the room.

For a minute, Chris imagined himself in Benford's place. The country had become Lambert's burden to bear, and he had a press conference to conduct soon from now. He couldn't fathom what was going through Lambert's mind. He was forced into a situation where he was to take the reins of the former commander in chief. It was then that he noticed the man was younger than his predecessor. In some ways, he reminded Chris of a younger version of John F. Kennedy. Lambert was around his height, with short brown hair and a fair build. His livid eyes contained knowledge of what he was getting himself into and his new role. He was clad in a suit that was darker than his eye color and a tie that matched the drapes.

Lambert rubbed his face and then ran both hands through his hair. Chris noticed circles that developed underneath his eyes from a lack of sleep.

He has the country on his shoulders and a global outbreak to contend with. We'll all need a very long vacation once this is over…

Minutes passed, before Lambert spoke. "I've already briefed Agent Kennedy on what I intend to do for the next few days. I wanted to see you personally because of my respect for your patriotism and your efforts to protect this world from bioterrorism. I intend to carry out Benford's wishes before he succumbed to his infection."

He knew what Lambert was talking about. Benford had sworn to reveal everything to the public about the truth regarding the Raccoon City Outbreak at the Ivy University in Tall Oaks. He was injected with a virus before he went public and turned into zombie within minutes. He had heard the full report from Leon once they returned to the states. After the assassination, Kennedy and his partner Helena Harper were on the run from the government, fugitives for orchestrating the president's death.

"We must fight this global threat on all fronts. I need your support in going public with the Raccoon City outbreak. People are frightened and deserve to know the truth. They need a sense of assurance…that we are doing everything in our power to end this. I'm sure you're aware of the protests in New York and Washington as of late."

"Yes sir…it's been all over the news."

He would have been lying if he denied it. The brief conversation he had with Claire last night confirmed the traffic congestion that stood between her and Washington. He couldn't turn on the news without seeing an expressway backed up for miles. The airports were just as chaotic, with grounded flights coming in and out of the country and Washington. She was to arrive today, and he entrusted Kennedy with the task to pick her up. Tension still existed between them, but he was willing to push it aside for the sake of working together. He didn't know why the agent still defended Ada Wong, after everything she had put him through. He didn't want to believe that a clone was responsible for the death of his men, but was forced to accept the story for what it was.

He knew about her rapsheet. From her involvement with Umbrella to her work with Albert Wesker, she had slipped under the radar again. She was wanted in several countries and was considered an accomplice to bioterrorism. Somehow, her relationship with Kennedy started in Raccoon City. Regardless of what he thought about Kennedy, he still trusted him to keep his sister out of harm's way.

Lambert folded his hands and stared at Chris. "Benford was a dear friend of mine as well. During press conferences, he would crack a few jokes every now and then, but he took his work seriously. Now it's my turn to gain the trust of the American people. I know you were a survivor of the Raccoon City outbreak, and it would be a great help if you were to assist me with the upcoming press conference. I don't even know where to begin with this mess. Should I tell the American public that lives will continue to be at stake as long as Neo-Umbrella exists? Either way they have to know the truth."

His mind trailed off, as Lambert spoke. Did he want to remember Raccoon City? It was a cataclysm of events that cost more lives than any disaster the country faced. He would never forget Arklay Mansion. He had lost nearly everyone that night, and to revisit the nightmare he left behind…Chris didn't know if he could do it. But he couldn't argue with President Lambert.

The public deserved to know everything.

"…Commander Redfield?"

Lambert's gaze was focused on him. Chris cleared his throat, and ran a hand over his beret. "…I'll assist in any way I can sir. You're right…they serve to know the truth. I would also like to add…that Benford would have been proud of what you're trying to accomplish, with all due respect."

Lambert nodded. "Thank you, Commander Redfield. It...means a lot to me."

"I'm sure you'll do well sir."

Even as he responded, Chris wondered if it was enough to gain the public's trust.

 

_________

**Location:** Birkin Residence, Washington

__________

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Jake responded in the way only Jake would answer.

Sherry took a deep breath, as she took the bag of groceries from him and placed it on the counter with the other bags he brought in from the car. He stared at her in disbelief, his arms folded. She could sense agitation, as it radiated from each syllable. Fortunately, it was the last bag he brought in from the silver Buick Verano.

Just as she suspected, he arrived back at the house around three o'clock.

She should have known he wouldn't have taken the news well, once he found out.

"You invited that jarhead over for dinner with his sister? What, I don't get a say in this? I'm out grocery shopping and you're negotiating a dinner? When did this come up?"

Sherry turned around and leaned against the counter. "Stop calling him that. It'll be good for the both of you and it'll give everyone a chance to…I don't know, clear their heads. I'm returning to active duty next week, but this doesn't even feel like a vacation. It won't feel like a vacation until all of this is over."

"And why shouldn't I call him that? I don't owe him shit. I didn't want to face him, at least not right now. What the hell did you expect from me, that I'll be alright with this? That we'll fucking join hands together and get along just fine and dandy? I know how he feels about me and that's not going to change, unless by some miracle he makes the first move. How could you plan this without telling me—"

"I'm telling you now. I wanted to wait until you came back. You're assuming he feels that way about you, but you haven't heard anything from him." She cut him off and pulled away from the counter. "I know he doesn't feel that way about you. Chris isn't like that."

"And you would know because…?"

"Did you stop to think that this is difficult for him too?"

"You saw the way he looked at me during that other jarhead's funeral—"

"Piers." Sherry corrected him.

"Right. He looked at me like I was a fucking monster. I'm nothing like my father and I don't plan to be like him anytime soon. You shouldn't have tried to set this up. It's not going to work. When I'm good and ready, I'll come to him, not the other way around."

Sherry's temper flared. "You're being unreasonable Jake. You're the one who wanted to know everything about your father. One minute, you were determined to talk to him and now you're backpedaling? I can't provide all of the answers…Chris has to be the one to do this. He knows more about your father than I ever did—"

"I'm not backpedaling Sherry. I just wasn't ready for you to play negotiator."

"Again, you're being unreasonable. Chris has more answers than I can give. You can't run away from this. Sooner or later you'll have to face him. I'm also doing this because Claire went through hell getting here and the least I can do is accommodate her. I thought you understood that when we arrived here. You wanted answers. That's why you're here—"

"I came here for you."

His interruption caught her off guard. Sherry was about to respond, but he stopped her. "You're right…I can't run from this. But I wasn't ready to face him. I don't know how this dinner is going to change anything. But you're the main reason why I gave up being a mercenary in the first place."

She watched, as his arms unfolded from his chest. He approached the counter, and drew her close.

Sherry didn't stop him.

His fingers combed through strands of short blonde hair. It was then she felt a kiss on top of her head. "Look, I don't want to fight about this." He murmured in her hair. "We've just gotten together…hell we're not even engaged yet. I just didn't think this dinner was a good idea."

"…You have to face this Jake," Sherry said. The hint of cologne and aftershave filled her nostrils, as she drew closer to him. "This was the only way I could think of to bring the two of you together. After next week…I don't know what's going to happen. It's not going to get any easier."

Jake released a sigh of his own. "So…I guess there's no way to change your mind about this."

Sherry shook her head. "No. And don't try to change my mind either."

Silence prevailed between them for what seemed to be eternity. Finally, Sherry broke the iron curtain between them. "Let's just put this stuff away. I don't want the frozen goods to spoil."

Jake didn't argue with her. "Yeah…wouldn't want that icecream to melt," he said with a smirk. Eventually, they withdrew and began to unpack. "Speaking of groceries, did you have anything planned? You know…like a menu or something?"

Sherry was thoughtful for a few minutes. "There was a recipe I was reading about last night…which is why I told you to pick up the linguine and clams."

Jake's eyebrow rose. "Really? And what recipe would that be?"

"Linguini con Vongole."

Confusion lingered on Jake's face. "What the fuck is that—"

Sherry placed a finger on his thin lips. "Language Jake…language. Seriously, you spew more cuss words than a woman with premenstrual syndrome. And you've been around the world and didn't know about that dish?"

Jake stared down at her. "Now I know you just didn't compare me with a chick that's on her period. I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that from you. And no, I've never heard of Linguini von Con…whatever the hell that is. I may have traveled the world but I wasn't at some exotic hotel with that kind of food."

Sherry snorted a laugh and slapped his arm. "I'm just kidding Jake, relax. And it's Linguini con Vongole. It's linguine with clams, white wine, black pepper, olive oil, garlic, red pepper flakes, basil and Italian parsley. And since I have that stuff here already, that's all you needed to pick up."

Jake pulled a box of eggs out of one of the bags. "And…there's no getting out of this either, right?"

Sherry shook her head once more. "…Nope. And you're going to help me. Come on, it won't be that bad."

"Define bad."

"You'll just have to follow my lead and everything will work out fine."

Jake grimaced. " Just lovely."


	4. Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon reminisces on the current situation and ends up in a phone conversation with Helena. The dinner commences, in which tension arises between Chris and Jake.

 

______________

**Location** : Washington

**Time** : 8:30 p.m

_____________

Leon couldn't remember the last time he had seen his apartment, much less his bed.

During the past few weeks, he spent his nights at a local hotel near the White House in case there was an emergency or he was needed. The new president-John Lambert made arrangements for him to stay there, but he refused. He wanted time alone, where he didn't want to deal with anyone once the day was over. From suppressing protests to dealing with the current situation, he was exhausted—mentally and physically.

The only thing on his mind was a hot shower and a couple of beers to drown out his migraine. Ingrid Hunnigan was the one who convinced him to check out of the hotel and return home, at least for now. He didn't know when he'll end up back at the White House, and that was the last thing on his mind right now.

"I would rather have my best agent in top shape, rather than dead in the water and cramped in a small hotel," she said with a diminutive smile. It was one of the few times she had shown her emotional side, and he appreciated it. From the times he worked with her, she was a woman of few expressions, with the exception of professionalism and integrity. Even now, she also had her hands full with this mess. Political backlash be damned, he couldn't see anything getting better at this point. The death of Adam Benford and the absence of a vice president was enough to send shockwaves throughout the country and propelled the media over the edge.

He grew tired of the 'no comment' spin a long time ago.

He wanted nothing more than for this nightmare to be over. The memories of Raccoon City never left his mind for a second; the screams, the moans of the infected…he never forgot them. Tall Oaks was just another reminder of the hell he was placed in time and time again.

Now, as he stood in front of the door, he wondered if he should go through the painstaking task of putting his apartment back in order when he ran the risk of being called into action once more. He had spoken to the landlord months ago, and was forced to have the electricity suspended while he was away. The number of the apartment stuck out before him, encased in gold. He was fortunate to have the first apartment on the bottom floor. It was convenient for him, especially when he was in a hurry and didn't have time hopping over someone's trash in the middle of the hallway.

A soft groan reached his lips as he massaged his neck.

_Fuck it..._

Everything would have to wait until the weekend.

Leon's hand lowered as he fished a key out of his leather jacket. A rush of cool air greeted him once he unlocked the door. It was closed behind him once he ventured inside. Everything was the way he left it, except for the three houseplants by each window that overlooked the street below. They didn't survive, which didn't come off as a surprise to him.

Maybe it was time to stop playing gardener.

Leon dropped his overnight bag by the door and the keys on a wooden nightstand. An ashtray laid dormant on the surface, littered with old remnants of shavings from previous cigarettes. He was supposed to clean it, but it slipped his mind each time. He had quit smoking for good, when Hunnigan gave him a look that could freeze water during his small breaks. He could tell that she loathed the scent and wasn't crazy with the fact that he wasn't a believer in the surgeon's warning label.

From since then, he promised her he would do something about it, much to his chagrin.

He was still nicotine-free.

There wasn't time for him to do anything that resembled a normal civilian life. He still had laundry to sort out, not to mention dishes that were still in the dishwasher. That would have to wait until the weekend as well.

He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. The apartment wasn't glamorous, but it was livable and better than his old apartment. Dull, pasty alabaster paint hugged the walls and complimented the rich mahogany floor. The sofa matched the décor, and went well with the flat screen television set against the wall in the far right corner. A small collection of videos were on the dark entertainment table but they were old kung-fu flicks he didn't bother watching or fell asleep before he could pop them into his blu-ray player. Two doors were on the left side of the room, slightly ajar, as well as an opening that led into the kitchen. One door was a walk-in closet with a secret passage, while the other led to his bedroom.

The stench of dry cologne and aftershave hung in the air, as he approached his bedroom. He thought about Claire when he closed the door behind him. She was reunited with her brother, once he brought her through the hellhole known as traffic congestion. It took him three hours to get to the airport, longer than he anticipated when he left the White House. She was waiting for him, a suitcase and a traveling bag in hand. If he didn't pull some strings with the airport in Washington and New York, she wouldn't have made it this far. Once Claire saw him, he was met with a hug that knocked him into the black Cadillac.

He didn't stop her, as he found himself returning the embrace. It had been eight long years since the Harvardville incident and was the last time they had seen each other. He kept in touch when he was able to call and even sent a lengthy email on what he had been up to, but physical contact was better than a cell phone or a computer screen. Claire's embrace lasted for a good ten minutes before he informed her that they had a long trip ahead of them. They did what they could to avoid the discussion of the outbreaks and the current situation, but eventually the subject couldn't be helped. Then, there was a new mission assignment that involved the full cooperation of the B.S.A.A and the D.S.O. With Neo-Umbrella, came hidden facilities that were discovered during the two months of investigation.

Their objective was to locate each one and dismantle them. For now, the outbreaks were at a standstill, but Leon was convinced that they would begin again.

They just didn't know when.

It was then that he learned about Sherry's plan to bring Chris and Jake together. He didn't think the dinner was a good idea, not when there was animosity between the two men. Jake wanted answers, but in his own way. Chris, on the other hand was a loose cannon and still in denial that Albert Wesker had a son. A man that had lost his entire unit…it was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity. It was only a matter of time before Chris snapped and he didn't want to be in the crossfire.

There was already tension that existed between them as well—Chris remained convinced that Ada Wong couldn't be trusted. Leon only hoped that Chris kept his sanity together for the time being.

Neo-Umbrella preyed on fear and innocence, attacking without mercy or provocation.

They just had to be prepared.

Leon undid the cuffs of his dress shirt. It was the same navy hue as the one he wore while he was in Tall Oaks and China. He replaced the shirt once he returned to the United States, only because it was his favorite one.

It wasn't the first one he had to replace either.

The rest of his attire soon followed—the black holster vest, and slacks. It wasn't long before he was down to his gray boxers. He checked his service issued Blacktail before it was placed on the dresser. His bedroom was as conventional as the living room, complete with his king-sized bed and the mahogany dresser that contained his shirts and socks. He was careful not to leave valuables in the open, but he trusted the landlord to keep his apartment safe. Linda Murphy had been more than generous to him, even to the point of giving him time to pay the rent. He didn't know much about her, except that she was single and had lost her first husband a few years ago. He didn't pry into personal relationships, so he didn't ask for details. She was the reason why he had a roof over his head and that was the only thing that mattered.

A sudden vibration from his pants jolted Leon from his thoughts. Another groan rumbled from the bottom of his throat.

Give a man some privacy, something else comes up…

He retrieved the phone from his pocket (which he nearly forgot to pull out) and checked the number.

_Helena…?_

He remembered her as clear as yesterday. They remained close friends after she was cleared of any wrongdoing or t involvement in Adam Benford's death. They didn't have a chance to meet again, but then again, her department was just as busy as the D.S.O. The outbreaks were still a top priority, along with the presence of The Family and Neo-Umbrella.

He was surprised that she would call him around this time.

Leon answered the call, once the phone reverberated again. "Nice timing, Agent Harper."

There was a pause on the other end before Helena answered. _"Sorry…did I call at a bad time?"_

Leon shook his head and sat at the edge of the bed. "…No, not really. I'm just trying to settle down. They finally gave me some alone time and I'm just trying to make the most of it."

There was a pause on the other end before she resumed the conversation. _"...So does that mean you won't be able to join me for a drink at the local bar? We haven't seen each other since..."_

Leon didn't need to think about his answer. He didn't have the strength to drag his body out of the apartment again, not after power was restored and he was tempted to just fall asleep on the bed and take a shower later. "...I know. Maybe we'll get together some other time. For now, I'm pooped."

He could hear Helena's soft laugh on the other end. _"That's probably the first time I've heard you use that word so loosely. That tired, huh?"_

"What word?"

_"Pooped. It sounds funny, coming from you."_

Leon ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well…I'm full of surprises lately. I've been at the White House since six o'clock. The press isn't going to back down until President Lambert follows through on Benford's promise to reveal the truth about Raccoon City. He's going to need all the protection he can get. I'd be damned if this happens again."

It wasn't the first time he vowed to make sure Lambert didn't follow the same fate as the last president. He couldn't shake the memory of what he was forced to do in Tall Oaks. His old friend's death continued to haunt him, even after the funeral. Despite Helena's assurance that he had done the right thing, it was still difficult for him to accept.

 _"I know you won't allow it to happen again..."_ Helena was silent for a few minutes, but Leon decided to change the subject. He could sense a degree of guilt in her voice.

"…How are things on your end...?"

Helena cleared her throat. _"It's...been okay for the most part, I guess. How are things with you?"_

Leon sighed. "It hasn't been too bad on my end. I had to pick up Redfield from the airport this afternoon."

_"Chris Redfield's sister, right? The one that's working with TerraSave?"_

"Yeah…I had to pull some strings to bring her into Washington. I don't know if they'll be needed for this situation but they're on standby and are willing to help in any way possible. She's their main representative."

_"I see. Well, if you're not going to take me up on my offer, I might as well go. If things don't get too crazy, I'll keep in touch."_

Leon chuckled. "You sound tired yourself."

Helena sighed. _"That bad, huh? Of course I am. While things are okay with me…my department has been going crazy as of late. I'm sure your people are running around like headless chickens right now."_

He didn't argue with her. "No kidding. I worry about Hunnigan sometimes."

_"Well, she has a lot on her plate, just like the rest of us. Well, in any case…I better go. Have a good night, Agent Kennedy."_

"Likewise, Agent Harper. Goodnight."

She hung up, leaving a busy dial tone behind. Leon hung up, and set the phone to silent. A few minutes passed before he rose from the bed.

Maybe a shower and a cup of hot coffee was a better option.

 

___________

**Location** : Birkin Residence

 ___________

Sherry watched, as Jake stabbed his fork into the grape tomato on his plate, and then Chris' response. He was silent as well, as he dug into his own plate of salad. She could feel Claire's uneasy glance in her direction, but she didn't speak. She could tell that Chris was irritated with the ordeal, but kept it hidden under the visage of kindness he had shown her upon arrival. Jake, on the other hand was doing everything in his power not to explode. Whatever was going on between them, she had overestimated her ability to diffuse the situation.

She didn't expect to have dinner this late, but Claire informed her that the meeting at the Pentagon had gone longer than expected and Chris wanted to go home to change. But she knew that something else was amiss, other than the fact that Jill didn't come and wanted to take care of a few things. The look on her face indicated that it wasn't something she wanted to discuss around Chris or Jake.

Instead, Sherry decided to focus on their casual attire.

Claire was just the way she remembered her, since Leon showed her a picture on his phone. Her auburn hair was drawn into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and celebrated the short evening dress she wore. Sherry could hear the heels of her black shoes click together under the table. Chris wore a simple white shirt, dark slacks and tie, while Jake wore a muscle shirt and slacks that bore the indistinct color of Claire's dress. Sherry wore a white polka-dot dress with a pair of Mary Jane shoes to match. Despite her best efforts for them to not resemble a funeral procession, it was a failure as well.

A basket filled with breadsticks occupied the table, along with two bowls of linguine and clams. She had cooked enough for seconds and for leftovers during the rest of the week. Two bottles of champagne were on the side. Parmesan cheese, Italian dressing and olives were encased in smaller dishes. A large bowl of salad was at the center of the table. Sherry did everything to make sure the décor matched the occasion. She brought out the silverware and mats she had stored away when she didn't expect company.

Chris and Jake sat across from each other, while she was seated with Claire in a horizontal fashion.

Minutes passed, before Chris was the one to break the silence at the table, much to Sherry's surprise. "…I didn't think you were much of a chef. I'm impressed."

Jake's head rose from his plate.

It was the first thing that came from his mouth since he arrived at the condo with Claire.

Sherry hesitated for a few minutes before she answered him. "…It was the best I could do, since Claire's here and I wanted her to feel welcomed, despite the circumstances. I figured that everyone needed some kind of a break around here, after what happened. I would have invited Leon but he declined my offer."

Chris nodded. "I know you had good intentions and I appreciate it. A part of me just wanted to stay home, but Claire pushed me to come so I couldn't refuse. She also said it would be perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other—"

"Then why didn't you?"

All eyes were trained on Jake. He muttered the question under his breath, but it didn't go unnoticed.

Sherry glared at him. "Jake—"

"Why didn't I what?" Chris stopped her before she continued.

Jake dropped his fork on the plate. A sharp clatter plugged the air as he stared at him. "Don't play stupid Redfield. You know what I meant. Why didn't you stay home? Seriously, why are you here? You could have just turned down the invitation."

Claire stared at Chris, but he ignored her. "I should have known this would happen."

Jake folded his arms. "I'm not sure what you were expecting when you came here anyway."

Chris gave him a withered look. "Muller, I didn't come here to start anything or to play commando with you. I only came here for Claire and your girlfriend's sake, otherwise I wouldn't be in front of this table. From what I understood, you came back to the states because you wanted answers from me. For two months, you've beaten around the bush and haven't said a goddamn thing. Your attitude doesn't change the fact that your father was a crazed lunatic and he's the reason why we're in this fucking mess in the first place. I saw the way you looked at me ever since I walked in. I don't know what your problem is, but if you have something on your mind, then speak up."

"Please don't start anything Chris..."Claire warned him, but Jake's laugh silenced her.

"You know what my problem is? You. And it's going to remain that way for a long time. I never wanted this dinner in the first place but I'm just going through with it for Sherry's sake. You knew my father was a fucking lunatic and yet you're so sure I'll end up just like him. How many times do I need to convince you that I don't want to be like him? I just saved the goddamn world and the best you can do is treat me like I'm a fucking monster."

"Is that your best excuse?" Chris was glaring at him to the point Sherry was certain that a fight would break out at the table.

"What makes you think it's an excuse?" Jake was also glaring, as the heated standoff continued.

"I've never looked at you that kind of way. From since you came back to the states, I've acknowledged what you've done to save millions of people out there. But you're in no position to judge me, not after the hell I've been through."

"Hell?" Jake laughed again. "You don't even know the meaning of hell. Maybe you should stop pretending that you're the only one who's been through it—"

"Keep it up Muller. You're digging your own grave."

"I'm just getting started Redfield."

"Getting started? You had this planned all along, didn't you?"

"Wow, you figured that out all by yourself? I'm fucking impressed—"

"Both of you need to knock it off." Claire snapped. "It doesn't have to be this way—"

Chris shook his head. "Dinner hasn't even started yet and you've proceeded to make a complete ass of yourself Jake Muller. Good job. I'm sure you had this little showdown planned all along. "

Jake shrugged, a smirk plastered on his face. "I guess you know me well enough—"

A hand slammed on the surface of the table. "Stop it, both of you!"

Sherry's tampered voice sliced through the air and was enough to silence them. "I didn't just have this dinner to accommodate Claire. I did this in order for both of you to come together and set aside your differences. This isn't the time to fight, not right now. This isn't what I wanted either so just stop this, please."

"Your boyfriend started this—"Chris began but Sherry cut him off.

"I know, and I'm sorry. It doesn't matter who started it. Just stop. Both of you need to end this tonight but not at the dinner table. This isn't the time or place for it."

She waited for a response. Chris and Jake were at a standstill, as they stared at each other. Finally, Jake grunted and reached for a bottle of champagne.

"Fine by me," he said, much to Sherry's relief. "But that doesn't change anything."

Chris returned to his plate. "If you want answers, then drop the tough guy act. I'm here, whenever you want to settle down and be a man. I was never your enemy in the first place and to be honest, you don't intimidate me. I've been through worse."

"Go fuck yourself Red—ow!"

Sherry kicked Jake's ankle before he uttered the offending word. Jake grumbled under his breath and began to rub where she kicked him. Claire seemed relieved as well, as she finished the remainder of her salad. '

The rest of the dinner went on in silence.

Sherry noticed that Chris and Jake did their best not to start another fight at the table but even then she wasn't sure if it was enough to keep them from killing each other. Jake's resentment was the reason why he stayed away. She never coerced him into approaching Chris, because Jake did things in his own way. Both of them were relentless and strong-willed. If anything, she expected another confrontation before the night drew to a close.

She could only hope it was more than a couple of minutes ago.

"This is really good Sherry," Claire said, as she reached for another helping of the linguine dish. "Where did you find the recipe?"

Sherry drank the rest of her champagne and placed the glass on the table. "Online. I couldn't think of anything else so I decided to try my luck at something I've never done before. Jake helped me with the recipe and brought most of the stuff. He deserves a degree of thanks, at least."

"Well, in that case, I need to show Chris around the kitchen more often."

Chris rolled his eyes at her light jab of humor. "Don't start Claire. Just don't."

Claire sighed. "I didn't insult your cooking."

Chris didn't answer her.

"Funny, I've always thought of you as a typical family man," Jake said. He noticed that Chris wasn't amused by his remark. "Chill Redfield, it was a joke. For once, just laugh in your life. Take it as my way of apologizing for what happened earlier."

Sherry didn't like the satisfied grin on Jake's face.


	5. Past Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill is met with a sudden blackout while preparing to dye her hair to the original color she had before her mind control in Africa. Chris and Jake eventually work out their differences, with Chris telling him about his father and offering a job with the B.S.A.A.

 

  _____________

 **Location** : Washington

  **Tim** e: 10:00 p.m

_____________

 

 

 

Jill stared at the mirror before her.

The image reflected everything she was thinking since Chris left.

The bathroom had become a traditional hideout for the past year. Every six weeks, she bought enough hair dye to mute the pale hue that managed to peel through the rustic color. It became her curse to bear alone, one of which she was forced to contend with. It was revolting; to view her freedom as some form of an anniversary. There was nothing to celebrate, not after the hell she had gone through and what she faced now. A period of nostalgia visited her every now and then, when she least expected it.

Chris didn't ask her way she decided to stay behind.

He already knew.

 _____________

  **[** Flashback **]**

**_____________**

 

 " _I'll be home around eleven o'clock…maybe later," he said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. "Depends on whether Muller gives trouble at the dinner table or not. Either way, I want this to end tonight. I don't have time with his games or attitude for that matter."_

  _"He resents you." She replied. "…I know it's difficult to accept but don't be too hard on him. He doesn't understand what we've been through or what his father did to thousands of people. But I know…that he's different. He just needs a steer in the right direction."_

_"Muller's a stubborn kid…I give him that. I'll try and follow your advice but I don't expect this dinner to run smoothly. I won't back down if he decides to start anything with me. I'm only doing this because of Claire's relationship with Sherry. I still can't believe we fought over this."_

_"I'm sure you'll reconcile with her eventually." She assured him with a smile. "Now go and enjoy yourself. I'll be fine. Both of you can't stay mad at each other for more than a week."_

_He chuckled at her reasoning. "I guess you're right. For now…" Chris placed both hands on her shoulders. "…do what you need to do. You don't have to wait up for me."_

_"I know."_

 _____________

 **[** Present **]**

_____________

 

 

He was gone and she was alone once more. She didn't have anything against it, and would have went with him, but this was something that needed to be done.

Jill drew a deep breath and turned away. She reached for the box that contained the dye and read the instructions in the back.

"Will last more than six weeks…" She repeated out loud. "…yeah…I doubt that."

Rénee was the best name brand that produced the color she wanted the most. It matched her original hue closer than the first one she began using. The current dye had worn out and left her with a dull mess, starting with the roots. She didn't want to wait until it was completely blonde again. It reminded her all too well of the control Albert Wesker had over her actions and the devastation she brought to every village in Africa. She didn't want to be reminded of the transformation she endured once she was brought back to 'life'.

Thousands died because she allowed it to happen.

How many times did she have to forgive herself? How many times did she try to let go of Kijuju? It didn't matter how many times Chris assured her it wasn't her fault. While she demonstrated signs of recovery over the past four years, the guilt still remained. Even when she moved into the condo space with Chris, she didn't think she could have a normal life again. It took time for her to learn how to forgive herself.

 

 _____________

 **[** Flashback **]**

_____________

 

_She couldn't recall the last time she ate bacon and eggs. It was a long time ago; however she wasn't sure how long. It was more than enough to wake her up. Jill turned over, only to find Chris was no longer by her side. It was the first time they settled down since Africa. She didn't think it was possible to have a relationship, not after the trials they have been through._

  _A groan escaped her lips._

_He's attempting to cook breakfast at this time…?_

_Chris wasn't a homegrown chef. The small was intoxicating, but was a reminder of his previous attempts to cook edible food. She could only imagine it was the 'breakfast in bed' routine. It was their first day in the new condo, after moving from Arkansas. Chris said he had something planned but refused to let her in on it. She could only imagine it could involve one of the two things—a day in bed or shopping. Fortunately, she was right about the first option and the second option was still a possibility._

_Jill allowed herself a few minutes to arch her back and stretch her remaining limbs before she dragged herself out of the bed. She glanced at the alarm clock Chris had set the night before. It was nine o'clock, Friday morning and the beginning of their brief vacation from the B.S.A.A._

_Her eyes soon traveled across the rest of the room._

_Various boxes stuck out against the wall, some unpacked, while others were sealed with tape. They still had work to do, but this was a lazy day and she wanted nothing more than to relax. The condo was breathtaking, with the view of the trees and mountains further away. It was near a lake and a slice of the interstate highway in Washington. She never considered the idea of moving, however Chris convinced her that it was for both of their sakes. They were engaged and he was determined to make it work, even if it meant one step at a time._

_"You slept like a baby last night."_

_A voice came from the doorway. She jumped at the sudden noise. Chris was leaning against the doorway, his arms folded, His genuine smile lit up the room. She never told Chris how good he looked in a Yankees jersey or denim jeans. He was clean shaven, as muscles rippled from the shirt. Chris maintained his boyish charm, a quality she admired since S.T.A.R.S. Of course it got him in trouble but usually she was there to save the day._

_"I did?" She returned the smile as her eyes focused on him. "…I guess that's a first."_

_His eyebrows furrowed at her response. "Is something wrong?"_

_Jill shook her head. "No…I just didn't expect to smell bacon and eggs so early in the morning. It was pretty…distracting to say the least."_

_Chris wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her close. "Yeah, well this was supposed to be a surprise and you're not supposed to be awake. I thought you would have slept longer and ignore that lovely smell downstairs."_

_She chuckled at his response and slapped his chest. "You're silly…you know that? There's no way I could have ignored your handiwork downstairs."_

_His shoulders dropped in mock exasperation. "I guess my operation failed."_

_They both laughed as they surveyed the bedroom. It was the only one that didn't need refurnishing. The floor was a deep mahogany finish, and matched the dresser and closet. A combination of alabaster finish and pinewood made up the walls, the top of the ceiling and the door. There was a space for a flat screen television set but they didn't have the chance to set that up. A few clothes were in the closet but they didn't unpack the rest of them either. She needed a brand new wardrobe as well. Chris said they would go shopping next week but they could start as early as Saturday—it was her choice._

_The king sized bed was the only thing they did manage to set up._

_"Now I know what you're thinking," Chris began, as he stared down at her. "…I probably incinerated the kitchen but I assure you that breakfast went as planned. Well, minus the burnt toast and the bed part because you're awake but for the most part, it was okay."_

_She arched a brow. "Burnt toast? Are you trying to convince me or yourself that everything was okay?"_

_He rolled his eyes. "For God's sake Jill…the toast wasn't that bad. I just…fell asleep at the table and forgot about it. But that's beside the point. What, you don't think I didn't make an effort downstairs to cook my fiancée breakfast? C'mon Jill, give a man credit here."_

_A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against his chest. "Well, I didn't hear the fire alarms go off so I guess it's safe to say you pulled it off."_

_"You have absolutely no faith in me, do you?"_

_A ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "Of course I do. I'm just kidding. By the way, I thought you said Claire was coming over this weekend?"_

_There was a pause before Chris spoke. "Yeah…about that—well apparently my dear sister has plans. TerraSave has their annual charity event and somehow it popped up just when I was asking her to help us out so we're on our own."_

_She could sense disappointment behind his words. "We can handle it," she said, patting him on the back. "I'm sure we'll get something done today."_

_Chris brightened up. "Yeah…I guess we can but we still have some boxes up here and downstairs. Plus we have some refurnishing to do in the other rooms. But first, we need a hearty breakfast. I don't want my hard work to be in vain."_

_This time, Jill rolled her eyes. "I'll be downstairs in a minute. Just let me shower first."_

_Chris nodded. "Just don't take long…I did like the way the bacon came out."_

_She pulled away from his chest, a hand on his hips. "I certainly hope you're not depriving your fiancée of bacon Agent Redfield."_

_He raised a finger to his chest. "…Who me? I'll leave some, I swear."_

_"You better."_

_She watched as he smirked and left the room. "Well the eggs aren't bad either—"_

_"Chris!"_

**_____________**

**[** Present **]**

**_____________**

Jill closed her eyes, only to open them again. It was only a memory of a life she believed was maintainable-no she thought they could maintain it together. Chris did everything he could to make things normal for them, but it was never the same. Now, with the outbreaks and the global threat of a new Umbrella, it was as if the nightmare had only begun again. It was difficult to accept everything that was happening now. It was difficult to accept that the man responsible for her torture had a son. She met with Jake Muller at Pier's funeral last month when he sat with Sherry during the church service. They were among friends and relatives Piers grew up with, as well as several B.S.A.A agents and military personnel.

She found herself staring at him across the aisle. She would have been a fool to deny that he was handsome. He wore a sharp dark suit, with a blood red tie. A scar ran down the middle of his face and complimented the short red hair. He listened to the reverend as he continued the sermon. The service was outside, because of the sudden change in weather. Rain dominated the skies before the clouds diminished and gave way to sunlight. She also couldn't deny the irony of the weather pattern during the past few weeks. The morning was either plagued with a periodic thunderstorm or retained a somber undertone.

Mother Nature wept for the lives that were stolen from the planet and demonstrated her wrath each time. It wasn't unusual to be faced with a violent thunderstorm at night. Tonight, however was different. She was able to move about the condo without the fear of a blackout.

Jill opened the box and spilled the contents on the sink. Everything was there—the hair dye, conditioner and other essentials to make the color treatment permanent. She had just enough time to mix everything and get it done before Chris returned.

The bathroom was large enough to suit the needs of two people. A walk in shower, complete with a bathtub granted her leisure time and doubled as a steam room. Blue rustic tiles hugged the walls and floor, with the exception of the white outline that traced around each tile surface.

The décor was near perfection.

It was another area both she and Chris chose to ignore as well when they were redecorating. Her bathroom, not to mention the rest of her apartment back in Arkansas was nothing compared to this. She learned that the B.S.A.A was part of the reason why they were able to afford the costs of living here. The other half came from Chris and the money he had saved over the years. They were at a strategic location, which allowed them to not only reach the capitol but granted them a period of privacy, when needed.

She couldn't argue with the location—it gave them a chance to breathe.

Jill stared at the four packets before selecting one. A part of her wanted to continue, while the other half didn't feel like going through the process once again.

_Maybe I should have done this last night…_

Before she could envisage her next move, the phone rang inside the bedroom Chris reserved for a home office. The place was a mess, with various maps and files strewn across the desk and on the floor. Chris spent his nights in the room when he couldn't sleep, or took the comfort of the entertainment center downstairs. He always did it in a way that didn't interrupt her while she was asleep. It was only in the morning did she miss him snoring away by her side.

She didn't know why the phone would ring from the office, unless it was an emergency. Very few people had immediate connections to their number, with the exception of Leon, Claire, and trusted B.S.A.A personnel.

_…Unless it was an emergency…_

She wouldn't have been surprised if there was one.

Jill left the bathroom and made her way towards the office. Her bare feet padded across the pinewood as she reached the last room in the hallway. She flicked on the switch and entered the room. The same pile of files and maps greeted her once she reached the desk. A large armchair was present, stacked with files as well. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, along with the faint hint of air freshener. Chris decided to go with a mustard-colored paint after he didn't like the white finish a week ago. A few pictures decorated the walls and were suitable enough for a home office.

A printer, scanner, stapler and a jar of pens could be found among the carnage. Jill combed through the mess until she was able to find a black cordless phone. How she was able to find it, she'll never know.

Chris was messy, but this was the last thing she expected.

That's it…he's going to clean this mess once he gets home. I could just imagine him landing on his face right now in the middle of this room.

She answered the call on the fifth ring. "Redfield."

Jill was met with static on the other end. It was faint, but was enough to convince her that no one was there.

_Well, that's strange..._

She tried again. "Hello? Who is this?"

Again, there was no response.

"Hello, is someone there?"

The silence mocked her once more.

Jill frowned. She couldn't assume it was a prank call and she doubted that anyone with their number would be dumb enough to pull one, not on her watch. Not many people had the number to the condo and it was in a secluded location, away from the city.

_…What the hell is going on…?_

A cackling sound was heard, followed by a dull buzz that was soon cut short. The only thing she heard was the sound of her heart pounding away at her chest.

Her eyes narrowed.

The caller must have been cut off, but this was suspicious, even for her. During her years of experience and training, she had learned never to underestimate any given situation.

Jill hung up, and dialed the number to the B.S.A.A headquarters stationed in Washington. She would have to find out if it was someone from the office. It couldn't have been Leon, Claire, or even Chris for that matter. If it was an emergency, Leon would have contacted Chris on his cellphone, since he knew about Sherry's small dinner party and Chris and Claire would have called on her cell phone.

Somehow, she couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right.

There was nothing on the other end.

_I...better go downstairs. This is unsettling, even for me._

However, before she could act, darkness enveloped the condo.

 _____________

  **Location** : Birkin Residence

 _____________

 

 He found him near the railing, a beer in hand. It took everything in him not to utilize his own form of behavioral management. Jill's words reverberated in his mind with each step he took.

He doesn't know anything…but that doesn't stop him from causing trouble. He should be the one to approach me…not the other way around.

He was tempted to just go home without Claire and let her find her way back to the condo but knew it would only spark another fight. He didn't have the energy to deal with Jake Muller, not after what happened at the dinner table. Dinner had finished on a solid note, but it didn't mean they were 'friends', or even 'allies'. The kid was just as stubborn as his fucking father. Once dessert was over he left the kitchen, but not before swiping three beers from the fridge and made his way towards the patio in the backyard.

Claire encouraged him to go after Jake and Sherry wasn't against the idea. So now, he found himself on the patio and staring at Jake's turned back. It was a clear night for once, with the temperature in the low sixties.

Chris cleared his throat and was about to speak, until Jake spoke first. "…I knew the girls would have sent you out here sooner or later. I was sincere when I apologized back there. I just wasn't in the best mood at that dinner table so just leave me alone and go home."

This wasn't going to be easy.

He could already tell.

_It was a stupid idea to come out here. This kid is like a goddamn brick wall. He doesn't know what he wants anymore and I doubt he'll listen to me…_

Minutes passed, before Chris replied. "…They didn't send me out here. I came on my own accord. You and I need to talk and we're going to settle this, once and for all. You're stubborn, I give you that. But I'm not leaving until this ends between us. Understood?"

Jake chuckled, but didn't turn around. "Oh yeah? So what did you have in mind? Arm wrestling? Typical barfight? Or maybe street fighting is your thing? Hold on, let me finish this beer before we get down to business okay? Sounds good enough for you buttercup?"

"You keep this up and I'll make damn certain that you're shipped out of this country faster than you can breathe. Don't think I don't have the authority to end your little charade here. Now you either listen to me or I won't hesitate to carry that out."

"So now you're threatening me Redfield?" This time, Jake turned around to face him. "Sherry was the one who vouched for me to stay here so I don't think you'll get too far with your so-called authority—"

"Then why did you come back with her? Let me guess, love? In that case, I suppose you didn't want answers after all, otherwise you wouldn't be like this with me."

Jake's eyes narrowed. "I would have approached you on my own time. I never wanted this fucking dinner. And keep Sherry out of this."

Chris didn't back down. "And neither did I Jake. But we're here so cut the bullshit."

A period of silence followed. Jake's gaze bore into him as they stood inches from each other. None of them moved a muscle. Chris couldn't tell whether his words got through to him or he was about to retaliate with another stubborn retort. Already, it had been a long day and exhaustion was starting to get the best of him. If he could wrap this up now, he would use every opportunity to do it.

Minutes passed before Jake turned away and reached down. He grabbed one of the beers and tossed it to Chris. "…That's something we can agree on."

Chris caught the Budweiser and made his way towards the railing. "So…are you ready to talk or at least hear me out?"

Jake took a long swig of his beer. Chris watched, as the bottle left his lips. "…Fine. I don't really have a choice anyway. Sherry is pissed off and your sister's been glaring at me since dessert."

"Your actions were uncalled for, but it doesn't matter now. What matters is that we settle down and talk about this. I meant what I said Jake…I never viewed you as a monster. You're right—you're nothing like your father and will never be."

Jake snorted. "Could've fooled me Redfield."

Chris shook his head. "Maybe your anger towards me is warranted. Maybe I should have been the one to approach you instead. But I wanted you to be the one to do it. Why did you wait until now?"

"You try dealing with the fact that your blood saved the lives of millions and then you find out that you're the bastard child of a psychopath. I needed time Redfield…to think. I couldn't just rush up to you and demand information at the same time. I wasn't even sure about you, to be honest."

Chris was silent.

For once, Jake was honest with him. It wasn't long before he realized that the resentment towards him was nothing more than a defense mechanism. It was present during Pier's funeral and remained with him until now. Jake didn't have a problem with him; this was just his stubborn form of tutelage.

"…Raccoon City was the beginning of this mess." He spoke once more.

Jake glanced at him. "What?"

Chris took a deep breath and started again. "Raccoon City is the reason why we're faced with the presence of a resurrected Umbrella. Your father—Albert Wesker was the captain of the S.T.A.R.S unit. It was meant to be an elite force that was created to assist the Raccoon City Police Department and in covert operations. It was split into two teams—Alpha and Bravo. I was on the Alpha team with Jill. He was a mentor to both teams and I respected him, despite the hell he put us through. But none of us knew that he was a double agent for the original Umbrella Corporation. He worked to gain our trust, only to betray us in the end. Being the captain…was only a façade."

"We received word about murders that occurred in the Arklay Mountains. Bravo Team was sent in to investigate, but we never heard from them again. Alpha Team was dispatched soon after and it became a search and rescue mission. What we found was unlike anything we had ever seen before. From there, we discovered a mansion up in the mountains. It wasn't long before I realized that the man I once respected was nothing more than a heartless son of a bitch who sacrificed the lives of his own men to further his agenda. Your father intended to use us as guinea pigs for the monsters Umbrella created. We were nothing more than disposable waste. Many died that night, and to this day I never forgave myself for what happened."

"Wesker's final act of betrayal was to unleash a bioweapon known as the _Tyrant_ against the ones who survived. But the monster turned against him and we were able to destroy it before the mansion exploded. From there, Raccoon City became the feeding ground for the dead—an entire town destroyed. Millions of people lost their lives that day—men, women and children."

"I thought your father perished in that explosion, until I found myself on Rockfort Island. Claire had been captured by Umbrella and I did everything I could to rescue her. Wesker attacked the island and was responsible for yet another outbreak. It was then that I found out that he was no longer human. Based on the database the B.S.A.A has on the original Umbrella, he injected himself with a virus William Birkin left for him."

"Sherry's father," Jake said.

Chris nodded. "They were friends…not to mention close colleagues. Wesker had become a dangerous bioweapon— with enhanced speed and strength. I was no match for him, and could have died that day along with Claire. But we managed to survive and escaped the island before detonation. Umbrella had their ways of getting rid of evidence, not to mention anyone who knew the truth about them. In the years that followed, I vowed to dismantle Umbrella and make them pay for what they had done to Raccoon City. I dedicated myself to the anti-bioterrorism cause. I also vowed to find your father and bring him to trial for his crimes against humanity."

"But it was easier said than done—he became a ghost after Rockfort Island but it didn't change the fact that he was the shadow behind every major bioterrorist attack. He commanded his own army of mercenaries and used them as pawns in his sick, twisted game. I became the center of his obsession. I knew that he would use anyone, including my own sister against me…to see how long I could last before my cause died with me."

"Years later, I became the cofounder of the B.S.A.A, along with Jill and our closest allies. Our main headquarters is in London but we have connections throughout the world, including Washington. Our first major assignment was to apprehend Oswell E. Spencer—Umbrella's founder and the man responsible for the Umbrella's operations in the first place. He would have led us to Wesker's location. We had enough information to pinpoint his coordinates—they led us to Europe. We found ourselves in another mansion, but didn't know what awaited us there. Jill and I were partners during the operation. Eventually we were faced with dead bodies and the stench of blood. We recognized them as Spencer's personal bodyguards. That wasn't the only thing we were faced with. The entire mansion was a death trap."

"By the time we found Spencer, he was already dead. Your father killed him and stood there, as if he anticipated our arrival. Jill and I didn't waste any time before we took action. I wanted to end all of it that night—the pain he had caused to thousands of people, the devastation, and what he had done to Claire. He was stronger than when I faced him at Rockfort Island. Jill and I was no match for him—not even our weapons or our years of training fazed him. He knew everything—our movements, and fight patterns. It wasn't long before I found myself in his grip. I did everything I could to escape, but I was no match for him. He would have killed me, if it wasn't for Jill. The last thing I heard was a crash, and she was gone."

Chris opened the Budweiser and took a  swig before corking the bottle.

 "Jill was dead—it was something I was forced to bear. During her…'funeral', I bore the guilt I swore not to bear since Raccoon City. I promised myself that I would do everything in my power not to lose someone close to me ever again. Jill was the closest thing I ever had—along with Claire, Rebecca, and Barry. After that 'funeral', my life spiraled out of control. I would drink every night, only to throw up from hangovers the next morning. Leon was the only one who pulled me out of the gutter and made me realize that I still had something left to fight for. Revenge, at that point became my objective."

"Three years later after the operation, I was partnered with a woman named Sheva Alomar. She was my new partner and was part of the branch of the B.S.A.A in Africa. A new pharmaceutical giant-Tricell had emerged and was suspected to be responsible for a series of outbreaks in a village known as Kijuju. Once again, I was faced with a new species of bioweapons I had never faced before since Raccoon City and Rockfort Island. I soon realized that Tricell wasn't just behind the outbreaks. A woman named Excella Gionne was part of it as well, not to mention your father. It didn't matter how many times he was 'killed'—he always came back. I also learned that Jill was still alive, but she was brainwashed and became a weapon that Wesker used against me. She was being controlled with a device that was planted in the middle of her chest, not to mention a drug known as **_P30_**. Sheva and I had no choice but to pull it out of her chest before she killed us…or it killed her."

"Once we freed her, she told us what Wesker was planning to do. He created a new virus known as Urouboros and was using a jet as a transportation device. He would have killed millions if we hadn't stopped him. This was his twisted way of ' _purging_ ' the world. He wanted to create a world where perfect beings ruled, while the weak perished. He was delusional to the point he considered himself a god among men. I made sure that his ideals died with him in Africa. I'd be damned if I allow this nightmare to continue any further."

He waited for a response from Jake, but found none in return. "You said that I acted as if I was the only one that experienced hell the first time. I know about what you've been through—I know about your past. I know how it feels to be betrayed and feel that the entire world was against you from the start. But I never took my anger out on anyone or used it as a way to cover up my pain."

Again, there was no response. Chris watched as Jake's grip tightened around the bottle. He finished what was left of his beer, and was about to leave the patio, when a voice stopped him.

"…Wait."

He paused on the first step.

Jake had grabbed his arm before he could turn away. His head was lowered as if he struggled with the rest of his words. "Maybe…we got off on the wrong track."

Chris didn't contradict him. "…Yes we did. What...made you change your mind about me all of a sudden?"

"Because maybe...I was wrong about you." This time, Jake shook his head. "I don't like to admit that I'm wrong sometimes and I can be a stubborn son of a bitch but...you were right about me. When my mother died...I had nothing going for me, except a mercenary life. I didn't know anything about my father...or what he put you through. I just felt that you hated me because I was his son. I...should have been the bigger man and spoken up about this."

"It wasn't your fault. I can't blame you for his actions. But I do want you involved in this fight against Umbrella and _'The Family'._ You and Sherry...can help put an end to this once and for all."

A miniature smirk reached Jake's lips. "...Are you offering me some form of employment or something?"

Chris shrugged. "Maybe I am. Depends on what you meant by employment. The B.S.A.A can use someone like you on their side, considering the nature of your situation. Come by tomorrow and I'll see what I can do."

**Author's Note:**

> This story has had some revisions here and there, and should not be considered canon. I do not own anything that is Resident Evil related, except for a few original characters.
> 
> This is my first time posting on this site, and I am happy to be here. I accept/welcome construction criticism and feedback. That helps me grow as an author.


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